Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Up and down, metal against metal. A steady servo rubbing a hard spike.

“Optimus…” Ratched whispered. He would be mortified if anyone heard him, if anyone would learn how much he wanted one of his oldest friends. He was not proud of how often his lust for that handsome frame got the best of him and how many times he had made up an excuse to withdraw to his quarters just to deal with his sudden arousal. 

It wasn’t completely his fault. It was a given fact that Optimus was a good looking mech. It wasn’t just his personality that made people willing to follow him to hell and back. With his smile, his voice and that fine - Ratchet squeezed his spike and moaned - that fraggin’ fine aft Optimus could make most mechs and femmes alike do anything he ever wanted them to do, but he was simply far too nice to take advantage of those… Assets. And too clueless. Ratchet had known Optimus long enough to know the other mech had no idea how his mere presence could affect others. How a grown mech - the very leader of the Autobots - could be so innocent he didn’t realize that half of his team wanted to frag him, Ratchet had no idea. Still, he was never going to tell. What Optimus didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, and if someone were to tell him, things would never be the same again.

Ratchet was so close. His whole frame was shaking. Closing his optics, he imagined Optimus there with him, gently guiding the now unsteady servo that was moving along his length. He could almost hear his old friend whispering words of encouragement, telling him to go faster. Hear him calling his name.

“Ratchet…”

“Optimus!!” he cried out, unable to control his vocalizer while the overload hit him like a big, red semi.

“...Ratchet..?”

The awkward tone made Ratchet’s optics snap open, and the sinking feeling began to crawl in. Optimus had been standing outside his room, and was calling him. In the heat of the moment, Ratchet had completely forgotten to muffle his sounds, and if he could hear Optimus… Well, Ratchet wasn't going to be able to look into his optics for a week.

Chapter Text

“What does he see in you?”

It was a rhetorical question that Tarn spoke out loud while he was examining Ultra Magnus who was currently chained to a wall from both of his arms.

“He?” Magnus asked even though he knew exactly who Tarn was referring to. Still, asking questions even when the answer was obvious was one way to play time. The Decepticon Justice Division was known for killing people, not kidnapping them, so whatever Tarn was after must have been something important enough to keep a prisoner instead of “sending a message” in their usual way. Or perhaps it was something personal? From the point of view of Ultra Magnus it didn’t really matter what it was, but the longer Magnus could keep Tarn talking, the more chances there were that the leader of the DJD would spill some important information that would help him escape.

“Megatron”, Tarn stated, just as Ultra Magnus had expected. 

What he hadn’t expected was what he did next. It was as if saying Megatron’s name out loud had flipped a switch in Tarn’s head. Magnus could see the red optics burning behind his captor’s mask as he walked closer and practically hissed:

“What does he see in you? What do you have that I don’t?”

Magnus wasn’t sure what to say or how to feel. It was now clear that whatever had possessed Tarn to capture him was personal, but that just brought up more questions. Could it be that Tarn was somehow jealous of him?

“I wonder how he would react if I sent you back in pieces. Would he be angry? Sad?” Tarn said, clearly talking more to himself than his captive: “Tell me, Ultra Magnus, what is your relationship with him?”

“There is no relationship”, Magnus replied, and then quickly added: “Other than the professional one.”

“You’re not lying. But I have seen how he looks at you. He values you. He wants you. Tell me-” Tarn stepped closer to Magnus and caressed the side of his helm with a surprising tenderness: “How did you do it? Why did he choose you instead of me?”

Magnus was unable to answer. The question was strange, and he was pretty sure that there had been some kind of misunderstanding along the way, but he wasn’t sure if the misunderstanding was his or Tarn’s. Maybe the Decepticon was right. Maybe Megatron did have feelings for him, but it didn’t matter as long as Magnus was held captive.

“Can’t answer, huh. I’m not surprised”, Tarn sighed and removed his mask. He stared at it silently for a moment, until he placed it on a nearby table and walked back to Magnus: “I wonder…”

Tarn’s face was so close it was almost touching his own. They stared at each other silently for minutes, until Tarn finally broke the silence:

“May I kiss you?”

That was not something Magnus had been expecting. He blinked, sure he had misheard the Decepticon.

“I don’t wish to repeat myself, Magnus”, Tarn hissed: “Yes or no? If you say ‘no’, I won’t force it. Yes, I know I have a certain reputation, but there are some limits I won’t cross.”

Magnus was so confused he simply nodded.

“Good enough for me”, Tarn stated bluntly, and the next thing Magnus knew was their lips pressing together. 

Magnus was almost embarrassed that it was Tarn who broke the kiss first, and the Decepticon did not miss this fine detail. Instead of letting him recover from the surprise, Tarn leaned in for another kiss. Magnus didn’t protest, but he knew he probably should have. 

He felt Tarn touching his side and sliding the servo lower. When Magnus made it clear that he wouldn't try to shake him off, Tarn deepened the kiss and started rubbing his hips. Once he was done with kissing, he moved on to lick the cables on the Autobot’s neck. Magnus gasped, and soon his gasps turned into moans. Tarn smirked and nibbled on one of the cables. The mech Megatron seemed to love so much was melting under his touches. It was perfect. Tarn would have so much fun with his captive before he would let him escape, and no matter what Megatron would do with Magnus if they ever ended up in berth together in the future, it would all just remind the Autobot of his time with the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division.

Chapter Text

“Are you planning on staring at me forever?”

Nemesis blinked and tilted his head. Not the effect June had hoped to get, so she decided to continue:

“Did no one teach you basic manners? You just grabbed me when I was on my way home from work after a long day, and for what? Why am I here?”

That made the mech turn his head away from her. Even though he didn't move from his spot, it made June slightly more comfortable than the unreadable stare she had been getting before. Still, he hadn’t answered her questions and she was still stuck on top of a Cybertronian sized box in some strange cave.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?”, she questioned with a tone she usually used with stubborn patients: “Why did you take me here?”

“...You are able to speak, right?” she asked. While most Cybertronians she had met were capable of talking to humans, there were exceptions.

“...Yes”, Nemesis admitted after a long pause.

June crossed her arms: “Then you have no excuse not to answer my questions. Why am I here, and who are you?”

“I am Nemesis Prime”, Nemesis growled, completely ignoring the other question. He had seen June near the Autobots one day and stalked her ever since. He had noticed quickly that she seemed to enjoy the company of Optimus in particular, and if Optimus could have humans as pets or friends or whatever they were to him, why couldn’t he?

“Okay, Nemesis Prime it is. But if you can’t say why I’m here, you should take me home”, June suggested.

“No”, Nemesis growled and crossed his arms just like June had done before.

Stubborn thing, June thought. She had been dealing with complaining patients for the whole day, and she had no patience for this.

“Now listen up. You are taking me home right now, mister. I’ve told you already that I’ve had a long day, and I’m not planning on spending the rest of it here. I have work tomorrow and-” she interrupted her rant when she heard Nemesis make a strange noise. 

Apparently her captor had a thing for strong-willed women, and when she realized what was going on, she blushed. She knew what dicks looked like, of course. It’s not like Jack had appeared out of thin air. But the massive metallic monster that was now right in front of her was something she had never seen. Sure, she had been wondering if Cybertronians had such parts, and she may have been dreaming of having sex with a certain handsome Autobot leader, but to witness an actual giant robot member was not something she had on her bucket list. Still, Nemesis did look almost exactly like Optimus, if she ignored the color and some dents and scratches that were most likely battle scars. This might be her one and only chance to fulfill her secret wish to ride a Prime. Against her better judgement, she walked to the edge of the box Nemesis had placed her on.

“I meant what I said about you taking me home, but how about you let me take care of you first, big guy? A little trade. What do you say?” June said, summoning a seductive smile on her face.

Nemesis tilted his helm, wondering if the human had lost her mind. While her assertive behavior had gotten his spike hard, how was she planning on ‘taking care’ of him when she herself was smaller than it? Still, she looked like she had made up her mind, and who was Nemesis to say no to a pretty face? He lifted her up, sat on the box she had just stood on and let her move on his lap.

It took June a moment to check out her new surroundings, and she had to admit that as intimidating the large member was, she was getting wet. Imagining she was doing this with Optimus instead of the dark doubleganger made the situation even better, and she finally summoned enough courage to touch the metallic skin in front of her.

Nemesis shivered. The feeling of something so small touching his spike was strange, but not unpleasant. At first, it was just light brushes here and there. Then she was rubbing him with both of her hands, then her whole arms. Then there was a pause. Nemesis wondered if the human had gotten tired so quickly or if she was suddenly having second thoughts, but when he turned to look at her, he realized she was removing her clothes. Her naked little frame was… Pretty. She was so small, so delicate, but when her human optics met his gaze, he could only see determination. She wasn’t just going to get him off, she was going to use him for her own pleasure, and Nemesis would let her.

Once she had shedded all her clothes, June walked back to the massive dick that was now leaking something. Did Cybertronians have precum? Whatever it was, she hoped it wouldn’t react to her touch like actual liquid energon. She swallowed nervously and brushed the thick liquid quickly with her left hand in case it would burn or zap her, but to her relief, nothing bad happened. The consistency reminded her of the regular silicon based lube, and she could certainly use it. With a smirk she ran both her hands through the liquid and proceeded to spread it all over her body.

Nemesis observed the human female with curiosity as she covered herself with his lubricant. Before he had time to wonder why, she had already started grinding her whole naked body against his spike. Nemesis made sure to save the sight into his long term memory files for later use. He could feel her every move and hear all those little sounds she made, and he started rocking his hips carefully back and forth.

The sudden movements almost made June lose her balance, but she somehow managed to keep herself from falling ass first into the pool of what she had decided to call robot precum. As she kept grinding and rubbing against Nemesis, she felt him getting close, so she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around the massive dick and squeezed as hard as she could.

The sudden new pressure made Nemesis overload with a roar. It would have been so easy to just lean his back against the wall and fall into recharge, but that thought was interrupted by shaky words coming from one very sticky human, who looked at him with pleading eyes:

“If you have any towels or water or literally anything I can use to get this stuff off me, I would really appreciate it.”

Chapter Text

This was the third time this week someone had called and claimed that some sketchy looking guy was dealing illegal goods under their window. Barricade couldn't ignore the complaints any longer, so he marched to the spot and saw the mech he had expected to see.

“Swindle, if you don't get your aft out of here, I'm really going to have to arrest you”, he said to the infamous Combaticon con artist.

“Aww, you wouldn't arrest a fellow Decepticon, would you?”, Swindle asked with a wide smile, that was probably supposed to be disarming. It didn't work.

Barricade wasn't known for his patience, but Swindle was half right. He didn't enjoy arresting fellow Decepticons, but that didn't mean he would let them do just anything. If Swindle wanted to sell whatever he was selling, he shouldn't do it out in the open. Barricade crossed his arms and stated:

“I would and I will if you don't pack your stuff and drag them somewhere else. I don't give a frag where, as long as it's not here.”

Swindle rolled his optics: “Oh fine, if the high and mighty officer insists.”

“Are you mocking me!?” Barricade yelled.

“A little”, Swindle admitted with a smirk: “You're lucky I've always liked your style or you'd have never gotten me to move away from that perfect spot.”

“If you're honest, you have a funny way of showing it”, Barricade stated bluntly.

Swindle laughed, placed whatever items he had been planning on selling inside his subspace and started walking. Barricades decided to follow him to make sure he wouldn't return to the previous spot, at least immediately. If he had to come back to the same spot twice in one night, things would turn violent.

After several minutes of walking, Swindle turned to a dark, remote alley and stopped before turning to look at Barricade:

“This good enough for mister law and order?”

“Remote, dark, no Autobots or Neutrals nearby… Yeah, I don't think we're gonna be having problems”, Barricade said after he had scanned the premises.

“Not even if I want them?” Swindle asked.

“Why would you want problems?” Barricade replied, confused.

“How else would I get an excuse to check out a fine Decepticon officer like you?”

This gave Barricade a pause. Swindle was one of the few Decepticons that had been causing small but consistent problems that required him to actually drive to the spot to see what was going on. Had it all been intentional? Best to find out.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing. Finding excuses to get my attention?”

“Well, not necessarily yours… Though I gotta say, that paint suits you”, Swindle replied and pointed at parts where Barricade’s altmode paint was most visible.

Barricade wondered if he should get his processor checked, because he swore Swindle had just pretty much admitted that he had a thing for mechs in uniforms. Maybe the fact that he hadn’t found a good frag in a long time was affecting his thought patterns. He didn’t want things to get weird between fellow Decepticons, so he had to be absolutely certain he hadn’t misunderstood anything.

“So you want to get attention from someone like me, but not necessarily me? I thought a mech like you would want to hide from cops, not try to get our attention. Unless…” Barricade moved next to Swindle’s audials and whispered: “You into us? You like a mech in uniform?”

He heard Swindle’s cooling fans activate. It wasn’t just Barricade’s processor playing tricks on him, he seemed to be right about the little troublemaker. Perfect. He wouldn’t reject the opportunity to have some fun, even though he was technically at work.

“Well, Swindle? Was Soundwave somewhere nearby and let Ravage get your glossa?” Barricade questioned. 

The smaller mech was still not answering, so he decided to try another tactic.

“I haven't even arrested you, and you're already using your right to remain silent, huh? I wonder… What were you trying to sell earlier? How about you move against that wall and let me take a look”, Barricade said.

Swindle took a moment to read Barricade’s expression. He knew Barricade was a Decepticon first and the whole law enforcement business came second, unless one of his fellow Decepticons was doing something that put other Decepticons in danger or something that would cause the war to ignite all over again. He wouldn’t really arrest him over some illegal holovids, right? Or was Barricade actually going to play along? One way to find out, Swindle figured.

“Is that an order, officer..?”, he purred: “What will you do if I don’t?”

“Would you like me to show you?” Barricade asked.

Swindle nodded, and Barricade pushed him against the nearest wall. He was already hard, his spike pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his codpiece. It didn't usually happen this fast. The peace time was nice. He didn't miss the constant cycle of fighting, running and taking cover, but finding someone to frag had become difficult when every potential Decepticon was busy building their new life, neutrals didn't approach him unless they wanted to report a crime and Autobots… Barricade shuddered at the thought, which made Swindle give him a look.

Right. He should focus.

Barricade shoved one of his knees between Swindle’s legs and spread them wide enough for him to get an easy access to…

He felt something wet on his knee. Barricade was pleasantly surprised that Swindle really wanted this as much as he did. Since the panels were already open, all he needed to do was to sink into that nice and tight valve. They both moaned.

Barricade kept his pace slow at first. While he usually liked it rough, interface partners were so hard to find these days he wanted to make sure Swindle would be willing to repeat the act in the future.

Barricade pulled back slowly, which caused Swindle to shiver from the sheer pleasure. Then the smaller mech looked him right into optics.

“You think this is how you can make bad bots like me behave? You can do better, can't you, officer?”

“You're gonna regret saying that”, Barricade said. He thrusted back in hard, which made Swindle yelp and bounce on his spike.

He started pounding the smaller mech at a brutal pace now that he knew Swindle wanted it and could take it.

“Once I'm done with you, you'll be a good little citizen, are we clear?” Barricade snarled.

“Y-yes, officer..!” Swindle lied.

He kept fragging him until they were so exhausted they could barely stay up anymore. As he was pulling out, Swindle stopped him. Did he- He did.

Barricade changed his pace to quick, short thrusts until he finally overloaded inside the hot, now well used valve. When he finally pulled out, he made sure to let Swindle lean on him for support. He wouldn't be walking normally for a little while.

“Thanks… Barricade”, Swindle managed to say breathlessly.

“Barricade, huh? No ‘officer’?” Barricade said, smirking.

“Nah. And uhh… Please don't tell about, well, this to your work mates, okay?” Swindle asked: “I like mechs in uniforms but I'm not entertaining a whole squad of them.”

Barricade agreed.

Chapter Text

Last shallow thrusts, heavy sighs and drops of lubricant and transfluids falling on living metal. Chains and cuffs falling on the floor.

Megatron fell on his side next to Ultra Magnus who looked about as tired as he was. It would be so easy to just close his optics and slip into recharge, but they should really get cleaned up first. He groaned as he moved his aching frame to get up, but a heavy servo pushed him back down. He didn't fight it. It had been Megatron who had wanted to spice things up, and it had taken quite some time to get Magnus on board.

He avoided fighting now because he feared he would hurt someone else which would lead to things spiraling out of control, but one of the unfortunate side effects of fighting for millions of years was that he had started delivering pleasure from pain. During the war, it had been just the thrill of the battle. He had enjoyed crushing his enemies, but he rarely survived a battle without at least some injuries, and back then, those injuries had reminded him of his victories or - in the case of an occasional loss - survival. Pain made him feel alive in a way that no regular interface could.

However - he thought when looking at Magnus who was now smiling at him and wiping their mixed fluids off his armor and tending to bigger scratches he had left on Megatron’s armor - he had to admit that it was nice to see there was someone who genuinely cared about his well-being. With Magnus, Megatron felt safe. Perhaps for the first time of his life.

Chapter Text

Ratchet still looked grumpy. He had no idea how Drift had managed to drag him to Earth this time. There had been something about Thundercracker needing a loan for the first “big screen human-cybertronian movie production”, but Ratchet couldn't care less. Unlike some people, he was a busy mech with a long list of unfinished tasks. He had no time for some wannabe film makers, producers, writers or whatever Thundercracker claimed to be. If one seeker was involved, it was only a matter of time until Statscream heard about it and figured out a way to get involved and then use it for shameless self-promotion. Why Drift wanted to get involved, Ratchet had no idea.

At least the view was nice. They were in a large storage building that was for some reason built on a cliff near some waterfalls. It was a shame they couldn't focus on those right now. Drift had noticed Ratchet’s mood dropping once the humans had learned he was a medic and started asking all kinds of weird questions about Cybertronian physiology. In an attempt to save his conjunx from the flood of invasive questions, he pretended to hit one of his peds on a pile of steel beams some humans had left on the ground. Something to do with the movie set.

“Ratchet? I think I twisted something. Can you take a look?” Drift said, pretending his ped hurt more than it did. It was obvious to Ratchet that his partner was faking it, and he was more than happy to have an excuse to leave the humans and their questions.

He made a show of examining the ped, and said with an overly serious tone:

“How unfortunate. I think I will have to realign some cables. Try not to put weight on it until we get it fixed.”

Ratchet let Drift lean on him as he “helped” him to walk away from the set. When he decided there were enough trees and foliage between them and prying eyes, he stopped. Unsurprisingly, Drift was now standing on both of his peds.

Ratchet smirked:

“Weren't you supposed to have injured cables?”

They both laughed.

“Thanks, Drift. I mean it”, Ratchet said.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn't be much of a partner if I left you at the mercy of nosy humans” Drift said, and continued after a quick pause: “Say, does your knight in shining armor get a reward for the daring rescue?”

“A knight? With the amount of limping I saw, I would have thought you were the damsel in distress” Ratchet said, amused.

“That so? Well then, do let this so-called damsel in distress reward you, my brave doctor!”

Drift moved in front of Ratchet in an overly dramatic way and planted a kiss on the side of his helm. Ratchet rolled his optics but didn't stop him. When he started planting more kisses on his helm and neck, Ratchet gently pushed Drift’s helm away before he could get any lower. 

“Someone could see”, Ratchet said.

“Then let them look”, Drift replied with a carefree smile.

“Really? You heard the kind of questions some of them kept asking me”, Ratchet pointed out.

“Then they will appreciate what they see if they run into us”, Drift said and pulled Ratchet into a kiss before he could protest. It seemed to be a good distraction, as Drift wasn’t hearing any more objections when he pushed Ratchet down and climbed on his lap.

“This fine, or you wanna do it with alt modes?” Drift asked.

The answer came in the form of an audible click. He could feel something hard poking him.

“Good choice”, Drift said with a charming smile.

When he opened his own panels and adjusted his pose slightly so he could just sink into his lover's spike, Ratchet grabbed his sides and stopped him from moving.

“Not so fast, I don't want to hurt you.”

Drift snorted, moved to guide Ratchet’s servos to his thighs instead.

“You're not going to hurt me. Stop worrying”, he said. Being a medic, it was natural for Ratchet to worry, but Drift was hoping they would get to a point where the medic wasn't worried about him being prepared during basic interfacing. Maybe it was best to show and not tell?

Drift readjusted his pose again, until he could feel Ratchet’s spike pressing against his valve. Then he sank down with a groan. Ratchet was frowning, he was cute when he did that. He was even cuter when the frown turned into a surprised look. Drift grinned:

“See? I'm always ready for you.”

He moved up and pointed down. Ratchet could see - and feel - that his spike was covered in what was obviously Drift’s valve lubricant. Neither one of them said anything after that. Instead, Ratchet grabbed Drift’s thighs harder and pulled him back down. Drift let out a laugh that quickly turned into a shaky moan. Ratchet always reached the best spots so easily and it could have been easy for Drift to just turn around and let the medic take him. But then, if he did so, Ratchet would go all nice, slow and gentle, careful not to hurt him. Up here, Drift could be in charge of the pace and let the medic remember he was fragging a warrior, not some fragile little thing that would break from the slightest touch.

He rolled his hips and leaned down, locking their dermas together once more. Ratchet moved one of his servos away from his thighs and used it to caress the back of his neck. With a smile, Drift planted a couple of kisses on the medic’s jaw and nibbled his neck cables. Ratchet gasped and bucked his hips, which only encouraged Drift to find new spots to lick and bite. He didn't stop before Ratchet was frantically thrusting into him. A particularly sharp thrust made Drift jump up and decide it was time for him to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

Drift overloaded first, and it was only thanks to Ratchet holding his hips that he didn't slump down. He quickly regained his posture and ground down hard, valve clamping around the doctor’s spike. Ratchet felt a wave of pleasure run through his whole frame and he overloaded, transfluids spilling inside his handsome lover, who was looking at him with the level of affection he wasn't sure he deserved.

They lied there together in silence for a while, until Ratchet finally spoke: “Should we go back?”

“The humans are probably still there. Can you handle them?” Drift asked.

With a smile, Ratchet nodded. He was suddenly in a very good mood, and no stupid questions from tiny organics would be able to ruin it:

“I think I can manage.”

Chapter Text

Cliffjumper could feel a slight tickle on his left thigh. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, only to reappear on his thigh, chest, arm… It was replaced with two servos. Way smaller than his own. Light touches, digits dancing on his armor. Was… Was that a glossa? He could swear he felt something lick his jaw. Then his shoulder.

Wearing a blindfold in berth was a new experience for him. He wouldn't have trusted anyone to do something like this with him, except for…

“Arcee…” he sighed.

No answer, but the next touch was a particularly soft brush against the side of his helm. Then the same servo moved to stroke one of his horns. Soon another one joined in. He hadn't realized their bases could be so sensitive.

The small servos were gone again, and replaced by the strange tickling feeling. Did she have some kind of brush, Cliffjumper wondered.

The brush-like thing moved smoothly across his chest, tickled his sides and then slid to his inner thighs. It stayed there for a minute, exploring and trying to find particularly sensitive spots, until it was once again removed and replaced with small servos that proceeded to tease his armor seams.

He shivered. It felt so strange, but so nice. Then he could feel digits circling his panels. The circling turned into stronger rubs, and soon enough he opened up and let the teasing servos grab a hold of one of his most sensitive parts. With anyone else, being blindfolded and panels open would have been completely out of the question, but she trusted Arcee completely. As long as she was into this, Cliff was happy to play along.

A gentle brush on the tip of his spike, then the sides. A small servo grabbing the base, and then another moving up and down along the length. He jumped. Yes, that was definitely a glossa. It licked the tip, then the shaft. A digit slipped into his valve, and he shuddered. When there was another, he bucked his hips. He could feel her smiling as she kept licking his spike. 

He wasn't restrained, but he had promised to stay still, so he did, but it was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated. He was now feeling something wrap around the whole tip of his spike. He felt sucking and knew it was her intake. If only he could see her now…

Her servos were busy, one on his shaft, one in his valve. Combined with the hot intake that was sucking him so well, it was almost too much. His cooling fans had activated a long time ago, but they offered very little help in his situation. He was so close, he could feel it. He could picture the pretty little femme on her knees, helm between his legs. Maybe if he lifted the blindfold just a little bit…

No, he had promised to keep it on, and this was a promise he wasn't going to break. He let his helm fall back on the berth. As a third digit pushed into him, he only barely managed to bite back a loud moan. He didn't wake up the whole Autobot base. Arcee picked up the pace and started thrusting her digits in and out of Cliffjumper’s valve while keeping her intake and the other servo on his spike. She kept going for minutes, until suddenly, she took as much spike into her intake as she could. The tight, warm feeling was overwhelming, but before he could overload, Arcee removed her helm from the spike.

“Huh?” was all he managed to say before he felt digits curl inside his valve and press into something that instantly brought him over the edge.

Cliffjumper slowly opened his optics and realized he was able to see again. Had Arcee removed his blindfold? He couldn't remember.

Then, a realization hit him. He had blacked out during interfacing. It had never happened before, and now it had happened with someone he always worked so hard to impress!

Arcee walked to him like his thoughts had summoned her.

“First valve overload?” she asked with a smirk.

“Uhh… Yeah?”

“Thought so. Want a second round later? I can show you a thing or two.”

He had never been so quick to say yes. Maybe blacking out hadn't been so bad after all. 

Chapter Text

“Well hello there, you dirty little earthlings! And don’t try to tell me otherwise, you’re watching this, aren’t you? If you somehow ended up here and have no idea what’s going on, you should probably leave”, Whirl started: “Especially if you're a kid. Seriously. If you’re a kid, then get the frag out of here. Adult eyes only! No, I’m not telling you twice!"

To prove that he was serious, he glared at the camera menacingly for a moment.

“Okay, I hope all the kids are out. If they’re not, well, I have no idea how they even found this channel, so it’s not really my problem anymore, now is it? Hear that everyone? I warned you! Anyway, I’m gonna do stuff that may or may not leave you with some emotions. Good, bad, something in the middle? I don’t know, okay? Just emotions.”

Another pause, long enough to get anyone still doubting whether or not they should be there to leave. He was a nice guy! Giving people time to move away so they wouldn’t see stuff they didn’t want to see was a nice thing to do, right?

“Okay, that’s enough time for everyone who should leave to leave, if someone shows up in the middle, that’s their problem! Time to get started.”

Whirl moved the camera to point lower.

“Now this is supposed to be EDUCATIONAL! See here? Oh wait.”

He took a second to open his panels and promptly displayed everything he had to the viewers.

“NOW you can see. Don't want to? Leave or look away or something. So this here is a spike. S-P-I-K-E. And this here… Give me a second…”

He lifted his hips up for a better view.

“A valve. No snickering, it's not the same as the parts any of you have. It may look like something you humans might have, but it's a bit different. Okay, SIMILAR but different. Kinda like both your holes but neither. This is not where anything comes out. Might leak a bit…”

Whirl ran his claw across his valve opening

“But no waste disposal or babies or anything. Convenient, huh? You jealous?”

He looked at the comments he was getting and smirked, not that anyone would be able to tell. Then he rolled his optic at one of the comments - Not that anyone could notice that either.

“No, I'm not going to use the holoform. You all know what female humans look like. Either you are females, you have female partners or, hell, you've opened an internet browser at least once in your life. There are whole pages dedicated to naked humans. I've seen them.”

Then he looked straight into the camera:

“Plus having my holoform in this kind of thing would lead to questions I don't want to see OR answer. It's a bigger-than-you robot dick or nothing. Take your pick!”

To make a point, he shoved his spike towards the camera, almost poking it. The only reason he didn't was because he didn't want to clean it later.

“Thought so”, he stated and picked up a datapad: “Now, if some of you are into what they call size play, see this datapad? Most of you are shorter than this.”

He brought the datapad next to his crotch.

“See? I’m bigger than you in more than one way. Something to think about.”

Whirl tossed the datapad aside and his clawed servos on each side of his spike, then slid them along the shaft. He gave it a few minutes, glancing towards the chat every now and then, moving slower and faster depending on the reactions he was getting. He wasn't taking requests, but he figured that if he was already giving the humans a show, he might as well play along occasionally.

“Ohh… Okay, that's enough of that” Whirl eventually said: “Someone asked if I could bring Cyclonus and Tailgate here for threesome, the answer is N-O.”

Then he reached for something and showed it to his audience: “But I can shove this false spike up my aft! Here it goes…”

He took it slow and made sure everything could be seen on the camera. Maybe he should have picked a smaller one to make it easier. Oh well. He pushed, then pulled it completely out for a moment, then shoved it back in with a loud moan. He started fragging himself with the false spike fast, enjoying the comments he was getting. All the soreness later would be worth it.

When he finally overloaded, it was about as messy as he had hoped. He was sure the human viewers would appreciate it, and when he glanced towards the comments, he was happy to see he was right.

He removed the false spike carefully, then waved it at the camera:

“See this, humans? This is what a well-spent evening looks like. Next time I'll let you guys suggest something, so don't forget like, comment and subscribe! Oh wait, you can't subscribe to this. Just put this to your favorites or something. Until next time!”

Chapter Text

How Wheeljack had ended up squirming and writhing under Soundwave’s tentacles, he wasn't sure. He had just been looking for some scrap metal he could use to fix Jackhammer. The ship could fly, but a fracture on the plating had caused annoying noise that was enough to give Wheeljack a sharp processor ache.

Somewhere along the way he had run into Soundwave, they had started fighting, Soundwave had pushed him to ground and Wheeljack had been fighting not just the normal amount of limbs, but two extras. He had ended up losing his swords, but that hadn't stopped the wrecker from defending himself. He had grabbed one of the extended cables and threatened to rip it off, then pointedly looked at Soundwave and told him that he hadn't been looking for a fight. This had - surprisingly - made Soundwave stop, but he hadn't let the Wrecker go. Instead, he had been just staring at Wheeljack with that unreadable visor face.

“I'm looking for some junk to fix my ship with”, Wheeljack had told Soundwave: “Nothing else. Can you just… Get yourself and these things off me?”

He had squeezed the tentacles to emphasize what he meant. It had made Soundwave tense up. It had been surprising, so he had repeated the action. That had made Soundwave turn his blank visor away from him, so he had tried to use the opportunity to wiggle himself free and leave, but the slender looking mech on top of him was surprisingly heavy, and with the weird, clawed tentacle-cables grabbing Wheeljack’s shoulders, the wrecker was going nowhere.

“...Soundwave?” he said: “If you're not gonna keep fighting, it would be nice to let me get up and leave.”

Soundwave had just kept ignoring him, and so far the only thing to get some kind of reaction out of him had been touching the tentacle-cables, so he had tried that again. He had squeezed again, and when that hadn't produced a visible reaction, he had run his servo further up and pulled.

That had gotten a reaction. Soundwave had shivered and turned the visor back to him, looking at him in an almost warning manner.

“I'll do it again”, Wheeljack had threatened and given the cable a lighter tug to prove his point.

Soundwave had suddenly hunched down and grabbed Wheeljack’s hips to steady himself. The pose they had ended up in had suddenly made Wheeljack’s processor connect the dots.

“Oh frag…” he had blurted out loud.

He had been able to feel Soundwave’s tension and hear his fans getting louder to cool the system that had heated up again, but not from fighting.

“Oh frag…”, Soundwave had played his own voice back to him.

They had stayed there for a moment, both feeling awkward about the whole thing, but also too polite to move to not to cause any more accidental advances.

Wheeljack had broken the quiet moment:

“Okay, I think if we just both get up and walk away, we can pretend this never happened.”

Soundwave had nodded. Unfortunately for both of them, the “getting up” part had caused both of them to move at the same time. Soundwave had still had his cables on Wheeljack, and when the wrecker had turned his frame to get up, he had pretty much gotten tangled and had somehow managed to pull Soundwave on top of him. The Decepticon had not been expecting that, so he had practically fallen on Wheeljack. 

The only thing that had prevented them from hitting their helms together painfully had been Wheeljack’s servo that had been quickly placed on Soundwave’s chest. He would have been thankful, had the other servo not ended up on his aft. The usually graceful Decepticon had given Wheeljack a long look. It had been Wheeljack’s turn to look away. Even he had been able to feel the unimpressed look he had been given. He had tried to move the servo away - he truly had - but their awkward pose had made it difficult.

“If, uhh… If I just… Can you lift your arm a bit?” Wheeljack had asked. Soundwave had done so, and the wrecker had been able to move his servo away from the Decepticon’s aft. The new spot on his chest had been marginally better. Soundwave had nodded towards one of his cables that had been partially trapped under the wrecker and to get it free, Wheeljack had no choice but to lift his whole leg around Soundwave’s slender waist.

Soundwave had been trying to act as professionally as he could, but Wheeljack had been able to feel his tenseness. Both of them had been very aware of how bad their pose looked like. Before Wheeljack had been able to move his leg back down, Soundwave had suddenly moved his other cable, which had made Wheeljack jolt, which in turn had made them press their frames against each other more strongly, Wheeljack’s face pressed into the crook of Soundwave’s neck. He had been able to smell him, and the scent hadn't been unpleasant. Quite the opposite. 

He remembered humming, which had gotten Soundwave’s attention. One thing had left to another, awkward attempts at untangling had turned into adjusting of poses, and now… Here he was. Soundwave’s tentacle-like cables all over him, but instead of trying to cause pain, they were reaching for places that brought him pleasure. 

The Decepticon between his legs seemed to be quite comfortable there and was using his regular pair of servos to keep him in place. For a moment he was surprised at how strong the slender mech was, but a cable reaching for a particularly sensitive spot cut off those thoughts. At some point - when, the wrecker had no idea - their panels had opened, and they were grinding their hard spikes together, those thin digits running along both of their lengths while the clawed back cables still danced on his now shaky frame. Wheeljack had never experienced anything like that, and he felt his whole frame melting under Soundwave’s touches. Why was the Decepticon so good at this, he wondered. 

Indeed, Soundwave proved to be great at reading the other mech’s frame, slowing down and speeding up when he had to and touching what needed to be touched to get the reactions he was after. Finally, when he himself was close, he speeded up, his cable claws latching onto armor seams on the wrecker’s chassis to hold them both in place and they overloaded together.

They only moved after their systems had cooled down properly. Soundwave was up first, and surprisingly offered Wheeljack a servo to help him get up. Without thinking of it much, he grabbed it and Soundwave pulled him back to his peds without a word. They stared at each other for a moment, but this time, it didn't feel awkward. Just… Strange, but in a calm way. They were still enemies, and if they ever met each other on an actual battlefield, they would fight, possibly to the death. Still, they would both always remember what had happened here, and so, before leaving, Wheeljack said:

“I know you don't talk much, but let's be clear: No word about this to anyone.”

Soundwave nodded.

Chapter Text

“Just bend over!” Tarn snarled at Overlord and shoved his helm to the ground. The larger mech laughed like a maniac:

“You won't keep me here for long, and when I get up, it's you who will be aft up, faceplate down on the cold, hard floor.”

“Really?” Tarn pressed his helm against Overlord’s audials and whispered: “You're here all alone at my mercy. I don't need to be stronger or faster, not by a long shot. It's enough that you can hear me. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead already. But if you struggle, if you try to make me stop, sure. I'll stop. Your spark, that is.”

“Hard to speak with a torn throat. Or maybe I'll rip off my own audials. Think I'm above that?” Overlord looked back, flashing Tarn a wicked smile.

Slag it, Tarn thought. The mech was a hot piece of machinery. His interface array ran hot. Never stick your spike in crazy, they said, but he was pretty sure that none of those “them” had ever been a Decepticon or had someone like Overload on the floor on all fours, shaking their aft, basically begging for someone to just slam home in that hot valve that had no right to be so tight. The empty threats made it even better.

“What? Did the big and scary leader of the Decepticon Justice Division freeze? The one who threatened to frag me hard no matter how much I would scream and beg for you to stop?” Overlord taunted.

Tarn rammed his spike deep inside Overlord with one swift thrust. Overlord gasped. Tarn was smaller than him, but in no means tiny, and getting a spike shoved in so quickly and suddenly would have made anyone's processor glitch. If he himself was smaller or more fragile, it would have no doubt caused some damage too, but he was a sturdy mech and he loved it rough. If he didn't, he wouldn't have gone to Tarn. The mech despised him as much as he liked him, and Overlord knew it. He regained his composure fast, and turned his helm towards Tarn again:

“You sick fragger, treating your prisoners like cheap toys. Are you proud of yourself? Forcing yourself on me and violating my most private parts?”

“Every time you fight me you end up like this, taking my spike like you were made for it. Shut up and take it!” Tarn growled and started fragging Overlord hard.

Overlord moaned. The rough pace was so good and Tarn’s voice made it better. If he cared for his well-being at all, he wasn't showing it. The red optics were glowing dangerously behind the purple mask, and Overlord had to fight his urge to push back for even more friction. Tarn was almost reaching the perfect spots, but not quite. Perhaps getting what he wanted needed him to get Tarn even more riled up? He decided to try.

“When you capture Megatron… Is this how you'll treat him? Push him down and force your spike in like you do with me and pump him full of your Decepticon justice until he'll see things your way?” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could.

He could feel Tarn’s thrusts getting sharper. Perfect.

“Maybe you'll make him beg. Tarn, please, stop this! I'll do anything you say if-”

“Shut the FRAG up!” Tarn shouted and slapped Overlord’s helm while slamming into him hard enough to make Overlord’s large frame move forward, his armored knees loudly scraping the floor under them.

That had done it. Overlord could feel Tarn’s energon almost boiling within his frame, his optics bright, fueled with anger and passion. He was being held down painfully, servos digging into the plating while a thick spike was thrusting in and out of him at a relentless pace. Overlord laughed. It hurt, but it was so good. 

Tarn was one of the only living mechs who not only could, but would pin him down like this and take him. He would bury his whole length inside of him just like he was doing now and touch nodes he couldn't reach with his own digits. As long as they pretended this was something else than just casual but rough interface, they would keep doing this. He would seek out Tarn, challenge him to a duel, then conveniently lose and let the other mech seemingly frag him into submission.

Tarn was close, Overlord could feel it. He wondered if he would slow down and let him overload before pulling out, or if he would finish quickly, walk away and leave him face down on the floor, in which case he would just take care of himself later, quietly moaning Tarn’s name - something he would never do when the said mech was close enough to hear it.

There was no slowing down, but surprisingly, Tarn reached under him and wrapped his clawed digits around his spike.

“You may not like or want this, but your frame is mine. Why they call you ‘Overlord’, I have no idea. You rule over no one and can't even save yourself from me. What a waste of metal…”

Tarn’s venomous words were followed by claws practically scraping his spike, not hard enough to injure him, but enough for the pain to push him over the edge. The overload shook his frame, and Tarn was pulled along for the ride. The shorter mech groaned, as his own overload hit him.

Tarn pulled out, wiped himself clean and gave Overlord one last look: “I assume you're able to find your way out once you can walk again.”

Overlord groaned and waved him off. The harsh look in Tarn’s optics always faded soon after their questionable interface sessions. He was good at acting like he didn't care for a short while, but if they would stay in some place for too long after meeting like this, it would make things weird. No matter how cruel Tarn could be to his actual victims, Overlord doubted he would be able to frag him the way Overlord wanted to be fragged if emotions got in the way. As long as they met like this, both pretending Overlord didn't want this, they both got what they wanted, no unwanted strings attached.

Chapter Text

“Got you”, Arcee said and locked the stasis cuffs on Prowl’s wrists. Prowl cursed quietly. How had he been so careless? He should have known better than to turn his back on the pink menace.

“Get them off”, Prowl said with a frown.

“Nah, they suit you”, Arcee replied, smirking.

Prowl sighed. This was ridiculous. He had work to do, and having his arms stuck behind his back - with his own stasis cuffs, no less - was now preventing him from getting anything done. He didn't have time for this kind of nonsense.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

Arcee spun the key around one of her digits and replied:

“I don't know. For fun? You've got a stick up your aft and someone has to get it out since you're not doing it yourself.”

“I don't have a-”

“Yes you do.”

Prowl glared at Arcee, who simply stared back until Prowl decided that his stubbornness would get him nowhere.

“What will make you open them?” he finally asked.

Arcee shrugged:

“I didn't really plan this. Something fun? Can't let you go outside with this though, so I guess combat is off the table. There has to be something we can… Oh!”

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Prowl asked.

“I think you might, actually”, Arcee replied: “That stick up your aft - I could help you remove it.”

“And how exactly are you planning on doing that?” Prowl asked, a skeptical expression on his faceplate.

Arcee lifted up digits that weren't holding the stasis cuff key and said:

“With these, of course.”

Prowl looked unimpressed, but Arcee wasn't planning on giving up yet. If Prowl was truly against this, he would sound angry instead of just slightly annoyed, and even the annoyance was most likely caused by the stasis cuffs, not her suggestions.

“Or would you rather let me try something else?” Arcee asked.

“Just… Fine. Do whatever you're planning on doing and let me get back to work. The sooner we're done, the sooner I'll get these things off my wrists, right?” Prowl said.

“Smart choice”, Arcee mused and put the key to her subspace.

Arcee pushed Prowl against his desk and turned him around. Prowl rolled his optics, moved some datapads out of the way and bent over, face against the desk. Arcee barely brushed his panel, as he promptly opened it and hissed: “Get on with it, I don't have the whole day.”

Arcee laughed and slapped Prowl’s aft playfully, but took the not so subtle hint and pushed a digit inside him. Prowl barely reacted before she started moving her servo and inserted a second digit. Even then, there was no audible cue on how the mech felt like, just a shiver she was able to feel. Yes, it was clear he wasn't resisting, but he wasn't as into it as Arcee had hoped. He had been obviously pent up, and a little “okay, fine, I'll do it with you out of convenience” would not help. That stick Arcee had mentioned? It would be back in a day or so.

She started wiggling her digits, until she had stretched him enough for a third digit. She shoved it in and started moving all of them in and out. She knew Prowl didn't have enough patience to take things slow, so she quickly picked up pace. That finally got a quiet hum of approval out of him.

Arcee kept the pace for a while. Prowl was hard to read, which didn't make things easy for her. Finally, she felt his frame heat up, and Arcee knew he was getting closer. Maybe she could speed things up but make it better too? She decided to try.

“You know…” she said while pulling her digits out slightly: “You could imagine that I'm Chromedome.”

Prowl tensed up and Arcee used the opportunity to thrust her digits back in. 

“Frag!!”

The loud shout was all Arcee could hear before Prowl overloaded hard and fast.

Arcee slipped her digits free, wiped them on Prowl’s back and handed him the key for the cuffs. Arcee knew he would be able to open them without help.

“See you around”, she said with a smirk and left.

Chapter Text

“Please, lord Megatron! Have some mercy!” Starscream screamed. He had screwed up royally this time. Autobots had attacked an energon mine, one thing had led to another and one of his missiles had ended up blowing the whole place sky high.

“Mercy? Like your misguided missile showed to our troops in the mine? Don't make me laugh, Starscream”, Megatron snarled.

Sure, Starscream admitted that it had been his missile that had caused the explosion, but in his opinion, it wasn't completely his fault. If the Autobots hadn't been there, there would have been no need for missiles. It was as much their fault as it was Starscream’s, if not more! 

Still, whenever Megatron was this pissed, he wouldn't listen to Starscream’s point of view. Starscream had to play nice. Really nice. He got on his knees, lowered his wings and took the most pathetic and submissive pose he knew.

Megatron rolled his optics. He found Starscream’s behavior disgusting. Starscream noticed the look on Megatron’s faceplate. Maybe he wouldn't get offlined after all. Disgust was better than anger.

Starscream did his best to look even smaller: “I- It was an accident! Yes, I shot the energon. Not on purpose, it was one of the clumsy Autobots who fell on his face before I could blast him!”

He could swallow his pride just enough to admit that maybe, just maybe the missile had been a mistake. Megatron raised his fist and looked like he was going to hit him, but instead, the servo was lowered with a deep sigh: 

“Get out of my sight.”

Starscream was baffled. No violence? Maybe he should have been happy, but something in his processor made him think that this was worse. Megatron wasn't mad, he was disappointed! Or maybe he had decided that Starscream was useless? Now it was Starscream’s turn to be upset. No-one ignored him! This would have to be fixed. Starscream dashed to Megatron who was already walking away. He grabbed his servo to get his attention, and blurted out:

“Please, my lord… Let me make this up to you.”

Megatron raised an optical ridge. No curiosity, just scepticism. Starscream found it unacceptable and leaned against Megatron’s frame, placing his servos on his chest. Megatron looked like he was about to take a step back, so Starscream flashed him a sultry smile and leaned closer to his helm. Megatron kept his optics on his, clearly looking for something - anything - suspicious. When he didn't find anything, he relaxed, but only slightly.

Starscream planted a kiss on Megatron’s jaw. “So, what do you say… Master? I'll do anything you ask.”

Megatron felt Starscream’s servos sliding lower, and he chuckled. If Starscream really wanted to win back his favor, he might as well let him try. He effortlessly pushed Starscream down on his knees.

“You look good on your knees. How about you stay there for a while and show me you're not as useless as I think you are?” Megatron stated.

Starscream smirked, and soon enough he was licking and sucking Megatron’s spike like his life was depending on it. Well, maybe not his life, but his pride. Megatron seemed to resist showing any visible signs of pleasure, but the way his frame tensed every time Starscream rolled his glossa just right betrayed his true feelings and it encouraged Starscream to keep going. Not too fast to let him finish too soon, not too slowly to get him angry again. When Starscream noticed that Megatron was getting close, he sped up. Megatron pushed Starscream off his spike, gave it a few rubs with his large servo and overloaded far more quietly than Starscream had anticipated. Still, he seemed sated. Starscream was sure he wouldn’t consider him useless after this, at least not for a long while.